


They Never

by xkailajayx



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Punisher
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xkailajayx/pseuds/xkailajayx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never said I love you, or thank you. They never went on dates, they never got married.</p><p>They never said goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Never

** They never used the word love.   
**   
They said- when Natasha was quizzed by Maria, and Frank was cornered by Tony, suited up- they liked each other, sure. They enjoyed fighting side by side and they liked going home together afterwards. Being with Frank gave Natasha more freedom and being with Natasha gave Frank an air of acceptance. He was allowed in Avengers Tower. Sometimes. With an escort at all times.   
  
Fighting alongside a lover shouldn’t be easy. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. You worry about them, about them getting injured. That’s why you don’t date people you fight with, why Natasha and Clint, Natasha and James, they wouldn’t have lasted much longer together, not the way they worked, not with what they did.   
  
But it was easy, for them. Natasha never worried about Frank, and Frank never worried about Natasha. Or, rather, the Punisher never worried about the Black Widow, and the Black Widow never worried about the Punisher. They could both detach their personal and their work lives as easily as you could change your clothes, and it suited them better than either had expected.   
  
**They never said goodbye.**   
  
It wasn’t a superstitious thing, not at first, at least. They just rarely got the chance, and when they did... They usually said it with their eyes, their lips, their hands. They didn’t use words because they didn’t need to. It was unspoken, that if Natasha didn’t come back from a mission, or Frank had another run-in with Daken, the other would be hurt. Would mourn.   
  
But that didn’t stop them from leaving, from doing their duty. Frank left the apartment carrying a huge gun slung over his shoulder and Natasha left for three months in deep cover and they came home, eventually, and they would say hello with tongues and touch and it would be right. It would feel right.   
  
Maria commented on it once, when she’d come to pick Natasha up personally. They’d gotten close, over the time they’d worked together, and Natasha occasionally confided in her. She knocked on the door and Frank answered it, Natasha ducking under his arm with her bag for the journey. Her hand splayed across his chest for a final kiss and they left.  Why no goodbyes?  Maria asked.  You both know you’re coming back. It wouldn’t be a jinx. Natasha looked at her, knowingly.  That’s exactly why.   
  
** They never went out on dates.    
**   
It was more logistical than anything. Neither had the time, neither wanted to expend the effort after a day in their line of work. They’d moved into Natasha’s apartment a few months into their relationship, simply for ease, and they watched the occasional film together. More often than not they would drink together, Natasha easily drinking Frank under the table, much to Frank’s chagrin.    
  
The closest they ever got was when they were sent on missions together. SHIELD took Frank on, occasionally, as an outside contractor, for missions where Natasha needed a second agent, because it became quickly apparent they worked well as a team. No one could contest that they did the job well, and even though Frank’s usual approach was to go in guns blazing he understood the job Natasha  had  to do.   
  
So they got to pretend to be married, or be related, or they just didn’t say. But they did their work and they did it well, and who needs a date night when you have standing back to back, armed to the teeth when a mission goes sour, really?    
  
**They never said thank you.**   
  
Nods. Touches. A new gun, a new book, a new mission. That’s what said it for them. A softly said name, a correctly timed brush of a hand. For little things- getting the groceries, making dinner- Frank was surprisingly good at that, actually, the days he was home at that time- a kiss sufficed.   
  
But the first time Frank was sent in to retrieve Natasha, chained hand and foot to a wall, all ready for the firing squad, she spent all night thanking him, bodies close together, gentle presses of her lips to his skin, soft strokes of her fingers through his hair, and he gave back as good as he got, though so much more tenderly than usual.   
  
The first time Natasha had to save Frank’s life, outside of a single battle, she thanked him with an open palm on the side of his face and then they acted like they forgot about it, but they never did. Natasha would never forgive Frank for getting himself in the position he did and neither would he. That was the closest they came to the end and it scared them both more than they’d expected it might.   
  
**They never got married.**   
  
Frank and Natasha spoke about it, in passing, once or twice. Marriage, the concept of being legally tied to someone. They’d both done it before. Neither of them had come out of the wreckage unscathed.    
  
For some marriage meant children, something Natasha could never have. For others it meant security, something neither of them would get from a piece of paper when they had the cold metal of a gun in their holsters and each other’s arms. For a few it meant a happily ever after. Neither were so naive.    
  
They were happy as they were. Together, official, serious, but they would never give it a name, not permanently. They would never say the were married or dating or together. They’d introduce each other by name and refer to the other as ‘he’ or ‘she’. They didn’t make puppy dog eyes or act like the other was their one true love. They were sensible. They were adults. And they were happy.


End file.
